


Down for the Count

by LasciviousPeach



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pining, and a whole lot of fluff, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LasciviousPeach/pseuds/LasciviousPeach
Summary: Alexander sees Jefferson being hit on at the bar, but the interest is obviously not reciprocated. He does hate Jefferson, but not enough to leave him. It's with that thought in mind that he slowly walks towards the bar.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you expected something other than mutual pinning and fluff, then you still haven't caught on. I still think you're great though.  
> This was supposed to be around 2,000 words. Oops?

The rain drips methodically onto the windowsill, a quiet reminder of the metaphorical clock ticking above Alexander’s head. He’s at his desk, nose buried in the seventy-three pages of his latest bill. The latest bill that still needs at least seven more signatures. A look at the clock tells him that it’s only 12:11am, much too early for him to even think about going to sleep, especially not before he finishes President Washington’s speech. Alexander doesn’t think the situation warrants a special speech, but writing is his best facet and he’d never deny one of Washington’s requests. He simply doesn’t want to do anything that could make the man disappointed with him. 

Alexander collects the loose sheets of his bill, shifting them together in a somewhat neat stack and tucking them into a large manila folder. The pages crinkle as he attempts to shut it. The pages will probably be crumbled but he can straighten them out and organize them when he gets done. Alexander  turns his attention to his laptop, clicking the enter button until his screen dissolves the blackness of sleep mode. He stops for a second to look at the smiling faces of his background. Lafayette, Hercules, John, and him all smiling widely at the camera. They had taken the picture during an insane party Angelica had thrown, and Alexander can still remember how much his head ached the day after. He just saw all three of them yesterday, but the tightness of his stomach proves just how much he misses them. It surprises him a little. Growing up he had learned to never rely on anyone, to never let someone come close enough that you would begin to miss them. After his dad left and his mom died, he learned the only person he could trust was himself. Apparently he didn’t learn that lesson well enough. He couldn’t say he regretted letting them get close to him, just like he could never regret letting Eliza get close to him. Alexander shakes off his momentary nostalgia and opens the Word document titled,  _ Washington On Your Side _ , and scrolls down to where he left off. The blinding light of the screen makes his eyes hurt, and he presses the palms of his hands to them. He’s used to getting no sleep, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Alexander pulls his hair back, twisting it into a bun on the back of his head, and pinning it with the hair tie from his wrist. His eyes skim over the last sentence, “ _ The urgency of the situation calls for direct and precise actions. _ ” He cracks his fingers over the keyboard of his laptop, then he starts to type. 

The final paragraph of the speech is finished roughly around three, and Alexander drags himself away from his desk and falls unceremoniously into the tangled mess of sheets. He wrestles the tie out of his hair and lets it fall around his shoulders in black waves. He tucks his head into the bed and breathes. His blanket smells like lavender and Lafayette, probably because the Frenchman had just spent the night with him less than five days ago. The comforting smell of his friend’s cologne relieves a little of the tension from his stomach and after a restless hour of tossing and turning, the familiar scent and the repetition of rain on his windows finally help Alexander reach sleep. 

Alexander rolls awake a few hours later, the smell of coffee hitting his nose as he pads barefoot towards his kitchen. He wishes he could be more surprised by the sight of Lafayette in his kitchen. The Frenchman is sitting at his bar, picking apart a croissant as he scrolls through his phone. 

“Why is it that you’re always up before I wake up?” Alexander asks, grabbing a mug from his cabinet and pouring it full of the crisp black coffee. Lafayette turns a bright smile - a way too bright smile considering the time - and Alexander is a little bitter that he hadn’t been slightly startled. “ _ Mon ami _ , if you went to sleep early you’d wake up earlier. It’s what you say, uh, law of nature?” Lafayette commented, his accent thicker from the early hour. 

Alexander rolls his eyes, “Something like that, and I actually went to bed early last night.” 

“Early for you is  _ quatre, non _ ?” 

“Three.” Alexander corrects, turning his back to his friend so he wouldn’t see Lafayette’s exasperated expression. He’s too busy for the same lecture John had subjected him to last week. He knows he doesn’t sleep enough, but he’s far too busy to worry about sleeping. And Alexander can’t say no to the President of the United States, people just don’t do that. He starts to pack his satchel, throwing in the second bill he’s been writing, along with his laptop and several manilla folder, including the one full of crumpled papers he never got around to straightening out.

“Why are you packing,  _ mon petit lion _ ? You don’t have to be there until nine.” 

Alexander scrubs his hands over his face, hoping the action will help him block out Lafayette and focus on creating the mental checklist of all the things he has to do today. The number one thing on that list: Cabinet meeting. Fucking Jefferson.

“I’m heading in early; there’s a cabinet meeting at noon and I’m planning on destroying Jefferson.” 

Alexander doesn’t have to be looking at him to know that Lafayette is rolling is eyes. “You are too hard on him, mon ami.” Alexander doesn’t bother holding back his snort as he turns to his friend. 

“Laf, I get that you like him- God knows why- and I get that you’re friends, but I loathe him and nothing you say will change that. He’s a pompous ass that dresses in velvet magenta suits.”

“He has great hair, Alex.”

“Magenta fucking suits.”

“Alex,” He sees Lafayette roll his eyes, but the smile on his friend’s face shows his lack of annoyance. 

“Did I mention he’s an utter dick, and a Republican?” Alexander breathes, closing the door behind him and effectively shutting out the remainder of Lafayette’s defense. He’s been chastised too many times because of his feud with Jefferson, the last thing he needs to hear is another one of Lafayette’s speaks about the Virginian douche-cactus. The day is almost as dreary as last night, dark clouds swirling ominously in the sky. The first drop of rain hits Alexander as he runs from his car to the building doors. He’s just inside the safety of the glass when the sky cracks with thunder and the Heavens unleash its deluge into the city. 

Alexander slips into the elevator at the last minute, thanking the intern for holding it for him. The checklist in his head continues to grow larger by the minute, and his fingers are itching to write. Alexander can’t help but roll his eyes when the elevator stops on level two, only one away from the floor that holds his office. It’s only when the elevator doors begin to open that Alexander regrets taking the elevator at all. At the first flash of purple, he wants to repeatedly bash his head against the wall. He sees the dark magenta suit first- the exact same one he had been complaining about this morning. Then it's the tight ebony curls that Alexander had threatened to shave off several times. Last, and finally, it was the set of straight white teeth pulled up into a smug smirk. Jefferson steps into the elevator, his dark eyes trained on Alexander in annoyance. It's only when he goes to open his mouth that Alexander decides that, for once, he's too busy to deal with Jefferson’s bullshit. He sidesteps the Virginian, and half jogs out of the elevator. The stairs would be faster than the inevitable four hour debate he'd start with Jefferson if they were in close quarters. He most definitely doesn't turn around and watch the elevator doors close on Jefferson’s surprised face. 

“Hammie,” Laurens greets him with a boyish grin. “Good morning John,” Alexander says with a genuine smile. “Why'd you take the stairs?” 

Alexander rolls his eyes, “Thomas fucking Jefferson.” He frowns as he steps into his office, Laurens following him quietly. “What?” Alexander snaps at the smile on John’s face. His friend shrugs, “I'm just waiting for you guys to work out this sexual tension.” 

He resists the urge to gag, but the disgust must be evident on his face because Laurens starts chuckling. 

“I’d rather fuck Charles Lee.” His response makes John snort and roll his eyes as he shuts Alexander’s door on his way out. 

Alexander pulls his latest speech up on his laptop and starts his second draft. The hours slip by as he types, and it's no surprise when his assistant has to remind him of the cabinet meeting. Like always, he's the first one to arrive. Alexander sits down, using the quiet to organize his thoughts. People flutter in during the next few minutes, and last but not least Thomas Jefferson. It's not surprising when he sits down directly across from Hamilton. George Washington silents everyone with the clearing of his throat, “Let's start this meeting with Secretary Hamilton's new bill.” 

It's fifteen minutes into the meeting- a new record if he’s being honest- when Jefferson makes a completely ridiculous comment about the Federalist Party. It's almost a reflex that Alexander should respond. He rattles off a relatively offense comment, although none of the cabinet seems surprised by the turn of conversation, Alexander just focuses on the way that Jefferson’s eyes flash and his fists clench in anger. It's really too much fun to get him riled up. 

Jefferson snorts, “You know if nothing of loyalty.” He draws, his Southern accent sounding thicker in the mists of his anger. That comment stings a little, because he had cheated on Eliza, his ex-fiancé, but she had forgiven him and they were still close friends. “You’re such a hypocrite.” Alexander chortles, he knows it's a lame comeback but it's also true and he knows that it'll piss Jefferson off even more. The Secretary of State’s words are interrupted though, by the booming voice of Washington. “Jefferson, Hamilton, take a walk.” Nobody even flinches at his instructions; it's not like it's a rare occasion. 

Alexander storms off, hating that he has to walk past Jefferson’s office to reach the elevator. Alexander had only been inside once, and he could attest that the office was almost as pompous as Jefferson. A mixed scheme of blues, purples, and deep grays. Leather backed books filling the entire bookcase behind his desk. Paintings of France- in purplish hues- hanging from the walls. It was too obnoxious and being in there gave him the worst headache he'd ever experienced. 

When he gets back to his office, Alexander types out a three page letter to Washington. He explains- in depth -the reasons that his plan should be chosen over the Republican one and if he makes a subtle jab at Jefferson in paragraph six, well sue him. He just hit send when his cellphone rings cataclysmically in his pocket. 

**From Lafayette <3** (1:34PM):  _ Drinks tonight at The Room?  _

He responds almost immediately. 

**To Lafayette <3** (1:35PM):  _ You know I can't decline drinks at my favorite bar.  _

**From Lafayette <3** (1:35PM):  _ 10pm :) _

Alexander rolls his eyes and turns back to his laptop. 

The next time Alexander notices someone knock on his door, it’s John impatiently urging him to “hurry up” so that they could go out for drinks. Alexander isn’t the least bit surprised when he sees that his clock already reads past eight. Whenever he gets really into a project, he could work for days without noticing. He shrugs on his suit jacket, pocketing his keys and phone while he follows Laurens out of the building. 

“I have to stop at my apartment and change out of this monstrosity and then I’ll meet you guys there.” Alexander explains, as he opens the passenger door of his car and throws in his satchel. “See you there.” John says with a wave. Alexander has so many other things he could be doing tonight; so many more productive things he could do with his time, but he could use a little distressing especially if he's going to try to do the impossible. Which is trying to convince the Republicans to vote for his bill. _ Fucking Jefferson. _

It’s twenty past nine when he gets home. Alexander strips off the offending suit and changes into his signature look, as Lafayette had dubbed it. Skinny black jeans and a button up. He was, after all, a man of high government authority. Unfortunately for him, that meant he needed to look somewhat presentable at all times. Although it was incredibly unlikely that anyone at the bar would be sober enough to notice him, or smart enough to recognize him anyways. He leaves around nine-thirty, praying that his squad has already ordered him a drink. He really needs a drink. 

The bar is unsurprisingly crowded when he arrives, so it takes him a minute to spot his friends surrounding a table in the back. “Hey,” Alexander breathes, sliding into the seat next to Hercules. “Hey,” All three of them chorus back, as Lafayette slides a drink across the table towards him. They really are the greatest. Alexander sits quietly as he nurses his drink, until the conversation turns towards Lafayette’s love life, which makes the Frenchman’s eyes light up. A dreamy look crosses his face as he spews sonnet about the colour of Adrienne's hair. 

Seeing one of his closest friends so obviously in love brings a smile to his face. The mood of the bar is light and airy, reflecting Alexander’s own state of consciousness. It’s almost at once though that the atmosphere shifts. It’s just then that Alexander turns his attention away from the table and sees the magenta covered asshole entering the door followed by his puppy dog, Madison.. “What the hell are they doing here?” Alexander hisses, the malice in his tone making his friend’s eyes snap in the direction of his own. He keeps his eyes trained on the two Republicans as they make their way to a table not far from Alexander’s. “Fucking Jefferson.” He growls and as if the devil had somehow heard his name, Jefferson's head snaps up and his eyes meet Alexander’s. For a second Jefferson freezes. He looks as though his contemplating how to proceed. It only lasts a second though before a lazy smirk pulls at Virginian's lips. He looks almost eerie like this, the darkness of the bar hooding his eyes. Alexander watches as Jefferson raises his hand, throwing a slow and condescending finger wave in his direction. It’s full of so much malice and smugness that his stomach turns. Alexander saw Madison turn to look at him, rolling his eyes and muttering something that made Jefferson’s hand fall down quickly and his gaze snap back to his fellow Virginian. It wouldn’t take a profiler to see the way Jefferson’s shoulder’s tensed and his fists clenched against the table. He was dying to know what Madison could have said that warranted such an enjoyable response from Jefferson. 

“Earth to Hamilton.” Laurens snaps, drawing Alexander from his thoughts long enough to notice that Jefferson was now looking right back at him. He glares and flips the man off before turning his gaze back to his friends and rolling his eyes at their knowing looks. “

I think I shall go say hello to Thomas, Alexander would you like to accompany me?” Lafayette muses, “Instead of staring at him from across the bar.” He rolls his eyes at the French Fry and flips him the finger, ignoring Lafayette’s sharp champagne like laughter as he walks across the bar. 

Alexander tries to focus on the conversation between John and Hercules, but his eyes are glued to Lafayette as he talks to the Virginians. He watches as Jefferson smiles genuinely at something said, the way he rests his head in the palm of his hand, the way his ebony ringlets bounce as he laughs. Alexander’s not stupid (stubborn not stupid). He knows that Jefferson is attractive. It’s just that his ridiculous ideas balance out his attractiveness. He’s musing over the sharp angle of Jefferson’s jaw, when all three of their eyes snap to him. Madison and Lafayette look equally smug, but Jefferson looks shocked, or maybe confused, maybe both. His mouth is barely parted, showing off a glint of his white teeth. His eyebrows are arched in surprise, his eyes glued to Alexander. He looks back to Laurens, and he  _ doesn't  _ flush at the thought of being caught staring. He glances back for a second to see Madison say something to Lafayette, that makes the Frenchman laugh loudly, his head tipped back and his mouth wide open. It must be the same thing that makes Jefferson look extremely uncomfortable, ignoring the eyes of both Lafayette and Madison. He catches Laurens talking about the Senate’s new education bill and promptly joins the conversation, letting his mind be steered away from Jefferson and what James could have said to make him look so embarrassed. 

It's only when Lafayette joins them a minute later - lips curled up into a knowing smirk - that Alexander let's himself get pulled deeper into the conversation, after all education is more important the Thomas fucking Jefferson. 

They’re talking about a new Senate bill when Alexander catches Lafayette waving at someone behind him. He turns just in time to see Madison politely wave back, wrap his coat tighter around his waist, and walk silently out of the bar. The action leaves Jefferson alone. It's surprising because the duo are practically attached at the hip, always together, always making annoying ass comments about politics. Just thinking about the idiotic things they consider political opinions is enough to make Alexander roll his eyes. 

Two beers and a weird coconut concoction from Lafayette later, Alexander can feel the alcohol working its way through his system, making him tired. They pay their tab and Alexander excuses himself to the bathroom. 

“We’ll be waiting outside.” Laurens tells him, and he nods walking towards the bathroom door. He only takes a few minutes, the majority of his time is spent making sure to scrub his hands clean before he leaves. He loves this bar but it has a way of making him feel dirty. He's about ten feet from the front door when he sees it.

Jefferson is sitting quietly at the bar, a burly man next to him- obviously hitting on him. Alexander can see it in his stance. The way the man's body language is open, and how he’s flashing a bright smile at the Virginian next to him. Alexander is just about to leave when he notices Jefferson’s body language. The man is slumped over his drink, body turned away from the guy next to him, and he looks equally annoyed and uncomfortable. 

So he's being  _ unwantedly  _ hit on. Alexander is tempted to leave, let Jefferson deal with the guy next to him that obviously can't take a hint. But he also knows what it's like to be in Jefferson’s shoes- metaphorical shoes, because Alexander would rather jump into oncoming traffic that wear those hideous beasts. He decides on a whim that he doesn't hate Jefferson enough to leave him- even though he knows the Virginian can handle himself- and slowly begins his walk towards the bar. Jefferson doesn't see him until he's about three feet away, and although Alexander doesn't see any immediate shift in the man’s demeanor, he hurls on full force. He grabs Jefferson’s hand off the bar and interlaces their fingers together. (If he's going to do this, he's going to go all out. And if he can tease Jefferson about it later, that's just a plus.) 

“Hey babe, sorry I took so long. The bathroom was packed.” He starts, leaning forward to lightly brush his lips across Jefferson’s cheek. Up close Alexander can truly appreciate the sharp cut of Jefferson’s facial hair. It’s so  _ even _ . He smiles a little wider when he feels Jefferson’s death grip on his hand. “Don't worry about it, darlin,” Jefferson drawls, his Southern accent much more prominent than he’s ever heard it. He tries to keep his face straight at the pet name, which is so sickly sweet, especially when dipped in Jefferson’s annoyingly nice accent. “David here was keeping me company.” Alexander turns his blinding smile from Jefferson and fixes it on David. 

“Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Alex,” He pauses for a second, “The boyfriend.” Alexander watches as David’s eyes narrow, and then he continues flirting with Jefferson- completely pretending that Alexander wasn't there. He grinds his teeth in frustration, dropping the Virginian’s hand and tangling his hand in the ebony ringlets of his “boyfriend’s” hair. Alexander can feel Jefferson’s eyes on him as he cascades his fingers through the incredibly soft curls. He doesn’t trust Jefferson at all, but he knows the man will stop him if he pushes this too far. 

David is still next to them, rambling on- obviously not getting the hints. It's annoying and Alexander is tired of listening to him speak. He leans forward slowly- as to give Jefferson a chance to back out- and slowly let's their lips brush together. At first, it's just the ghost of a breath across his lips, nothing but the new and unexpected tentative air of longing between them. Alexander listens to the hitch of Jefferson’s breath and letting his eyes fall shut, leans forward to press deeper into the kiss when he knows for certain that Jefferson won't pull away. Alexander lets his hands run through the soft ringlets of Jefferson’s hair, his own breath catching when the Virginian lets his hands fall to Alexander’s hips. He instinctively presses in further, kissing deeper but no less gentle. It's surprisingly sweet for a kiss between two rivals, between two people that despise each other, maybe even hate. But then again, hate and love are the two closest of emotions.

Alexander pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against Jefferson’s. Their breathing is unsteady and Alexander’s heartbeat is pumping too fast for him to grasp. He opens his eyes a little to look downwards. He can feel his own nose pressed delicately against Jefferson’s; he can feel the sharp puffs of breath against his face. “Alexander,” Jefferson drawls, his voice soaked in that deep southern accent, yet still just a whisper. His voice sounds different, rawer maybe. “Thomas.” It sounds funny to Alexander, probably because they've only used first names a handful of times, always sticking to growling out their last names instead. “I, uhm.” The airy quality of Jefferson’s voice mixed with his stumbling of words gives Alexander enough confidence to lean down and connect their lips again. It's faster this time, deeper too, but still cloaked in an unmistakable sweetness. 

Alexander loses himself in the push and pull of their lips together. For the first time they’re not fighting for dominance but rather working as a coalition. It's only when they begin to shift closer, that Alexander remembers exactly where they are, and exactly who is waiting outside for him. He pulls away and  internally groans when he sees Jefferson chase his mouth. That’s a sight he’ll never be able to forget- not that he wants to. Alexander settles for a quick nip at the Virginian’s bottom lip before pulling away again, but letting his hands rest Jefferson’s curls. He looks into Jefferson's - or is it Thomas now?- eyes, temporarily losing himself in the glistening darkness of their shades. The colors are dark, shiveringly so, but they scream out to him in a cacophony. Alexander licks his bottom lip, pulling at it with his teeth as he stares at Jefferson, his enemy, the man he's despised since the beginning. But maybe that's not true, maybe it never was. Maybe he had hidden his own feelings deep within the cages of his heart, unwilling, unable even to see them. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a certain Frenchman’s very loud, very obvious, “ _ Merde _ !” 

Alexander snaps his head around- sure he's given himself a form of whiplash -to see Lafayette, Laurens, Hercules, and Madison all staring at them. Jefferson must be seeing the same thing, because Alexander can feel the hands on his hips tighten. He can see Lafayette’s lips twitch up in a smirk and Madison looks equally amused. Laurens look smug and Hercules just looks confused. “Oh my God,” Alexander breathes, looking from Laurens to Hercules to Lafayette to Madison, and then back to Lafayette. What was Madison even doing here? Didn't he leave? 

“Alexander,” Jefferson drawls, his southern accent sending a shiver through the younger man’s body. “I should go, I have a bill I have to finish before the cabinet meeting on Monday.” The explanation makes Jefferson’s lips twitch up into a soft smile. “Okay.” The Virginian breathes, “I’m still going to destroy you in the cabinet meeting.” It's such a Jefferson thing to say that it provides Alexander with a small comfort in knowing that things weren't necessarily going to change. He gives him an awkward smile and reluctantly drops his hands from Jefferson’s hair and steps away. Alexander turns on his heels and purposely walks past the group hovering by the door and outside into the cool evening air. 

Lafayette joins him a minute later and laughs as he loops his hand between Alexander’s. “I'd be surprised if I wasn't so drunk, mon ami.” He laughs, tipping his head against Alexander’s. “I don't even want to hear it.” But regardless of his words, Alexander does relax in the comfort that is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette. 

The weekend passes far too fast for Alexander’s likening, but he manages to finish his bill,  _ and  _ avoid having to have the “Jefferson” talk with his Lafayette. The hours slip through his fingers like sand through a sieve, here then gone within the second. He wakes up before four on Monday and reluctantly drags himself out of bed. Their cabinet meeting for the discussion of the new education bill is today, and he's going to be face to face with Jefferson since the kiss. He ties his hair up into a loose pony tail and opts to start the day extra early. 

Alexander doesn't even bother looking in the mirror before he leaves. He knows that his hair is greasy and the bags under his eyes are almost as dark as the ink stains on his hands. He writes until he has to leave and then writes thirty minutes longer. By the time he drags himself into his office at nine, Alexander is running purely off coffee and determination. Not to mention he’s running later than ever. 

He goes straight to the cabinet meeting and doesn’t even bothering to drop his things off at his desk. He walks briskly into the room, dropping into his seat like a rock in the ocean. Alexander keeps his gaze aimed at the shiny wooden table, not wanting to meet the surprised eyes of his fellow cabinet members. He knows he looks like shit; he feels like it too, but he just wants to get the meeting started so he can introduce his new plan to lower the deficit. “That's everyone,” Washington starts, his voice deep enough to pull Alexander’s eyes from the table. He cautiously looks across the table to find the Secretary of State looking enticingly good, wearing a light purple dress shirt, a tie with various shades of purple, and a black suit jacket. He looks so amazingly good, but not good enough to throw Alexander off his game. He knows this plan like the back of his hand, and no one - not even Jefferson - is going to get in his way. “Secretary Hamilton, you have the floor, sir.” 

“Thank you, Your Excellency.” He stands up, smoothing out the front of his dress shirt. “The best way to slash the deficit is to start enforcing tax on the one percent.” Alexander starts, launching into a big, and passionate, spew of his debt plan. He hurls into full force, hitting the major pros and then cons. He speaks with his hands, trying desperately to convince his fellow members that this is the best way to solve the problem. He knows that the second he sits down Jefferson will be up and bashing everything he says. “If you have any questions regarding the bill, shoot me an email and I'd be happy to explain further.” Alexander says to sum up when he doubts he can explain any further. Washington gives him a nod as he slides back into his chair, sitting the thick manila folder in front of him. “Any counter arguments? Secretary Jefferson?” 

The room is deafeningly quiet, the only sound is the mechanical hum of the air conditioning and the deep bated breaths of his fellow cabinet members. It seems as though it can't get any quieter until Jefferson speaks, “I have nothing to add, Mr. President.” And apparently it can. Washington looks beyond confused and the rest of the cabinet looks varying degrees of uncomfortable. It's enough to set Alexander on edge. Jefferson though, looks cool and collected, reclining comfortably in his chair with his hands intertwined behind his head. Washington clears his throat and stands, “I suppose that concludes what has to be the shortest cabinet meeting ever. You're all dismissed.” The cabinet releases various relieved sighs, collecting their notepads and standing up. Alexander remains silently seated, intending to talk to Washington. He doesn't get the chance though because the president literally  _ jogs  _ out of the room when Alexander begins to open his mouth. Affronted, he turns around to look shockingly at the rest of the room but the only person who remained was Jefferson. The Virginian is quietly gathering his things, eyes trained downwards. “I thought you said you weren't going to take it easy on me.” Alexander starts, walking over and sitting on the table in front of Jefferson. “I didn't think your terrible plan needed any comments. There's no way it will pass through Congress.” The gentle banter sets Alexander at ease; at least it did until Jefferson begins to speak again. “I think we should talk about Friday.”

Alexander already knows what Jefferson is going to say. It's going to fall somewhere between  _ we were drunk _ and  _ it didn't mean anything.  _ He doesn't know which one would be worse to hear though, so he saves himself the pathetically broken heart by jumping the gun and saying it before he can hear it come out of Jefferson’s mouth. “It was a one time thing; we were drunk and it didn't mean anything.” He’s never been good at not talking and apparently when it rains, it pours. Maybe he should actually listen to Burr for once.  _ Ha, yeah right. _

If Alexander didn't know better he'd think he saw Jefferson’s eyes harden and his posture stiffen, but he  _ does  _ know better and this is reality not some romance novel. “Of course, Hamilton. You know there's no way I'd make out with you sober.” Jefferson draws, and that hurt. It really hurt. Which isn't surprising because Alexander has been thinking about that kiss and what it meant, and how it happened, and how good it felt, and how he  _ maybe  _ doesn't actually hate Jefferson. And how he maybe has feelings for him. And how he definitely has feelings for him. He has  _ feelings  _ for Thomas Jefferson. He hates the word because it makes him feel pathetic, and it seems as though nobody can make him feel as pathetic as Thomas Jefferson can. He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn't even notice when Jefferson leaves, the door slamming shut behind him. 

He manages to avoid Jefferson for the rest of the day, thankfully so. He's worried that the Republican would take one look at him and _know_ how pathetic he was, know how in love he was. One day turns into two, and with the exception of a few awkwardly quiet elevator rides Alexander is able to avoid Jefferson for an entire business week. Lafayette casts him knowing looks but for the most part doesn't mention Friday night.

It's Friday night when Eliza, Lafayette, John, and Angelica decide that Alexander is in need of a lecture on self care and a movie marathon. He's not in the position to decline a lecture (he's running on a mere hour’s worth of sleep) and the thought of being with his friends calms some of the frantic poundings of his thoughts. They agree to meet at Alexander’s apartment and that Angelica would be bringing the film. 

He spends the day cleaning up with Lafayette, carrying the mounds of dirty dishes to the kitchen and collecting the fifty thousand hair bands that someone get strewn across the apartment. He vacuums, while Lafayette loads the washing machine, laughing as the man sings too loud French songs. It's six o'clock when he climbs into the shower, letting the scorching water rid him of the grim he feels and also work out the knots in his back from bending over his desk to type for several hours. He uses one of Lafayette’s imported French shampoos (the man practically lives with Alexander with the way he leaves things when he visits) that smells like lavender. He lathers it in his hair and lets it rinse out slowly. By the time he crawls out and wraps himself in a big fluffy towel, it's going on six thirty. He wraps his hair in a towel that sits on the top of his head, as he roughly drys his skin off. He slides into a pair of worn jeans and one of Lauren’s grey long sleeved shirts. Alexander pats his hair dry, leaving it down and loose around his shoulders to finish air drying. He walks back into the living room when the first knock starts.

Lafayette opens the door, gesturing their friends in with “ _ Bonjour mon ami _ !” And “ _ Mon Cher! _ ”s. Eliza is the first to hug him, wrapping her small arms around his shoulders and engulfing him in her rich perfume. “Alex,” she greets with a kiss on his cheek, and a squeeze of his arm. He can only smile when he greets her back, “Eliza, my dear, it's good to see you.” She smiles widely, interlacing their arms as she all but drags him to the couch. Angelica and John arrive at almost the same time, both greeting him with hugs and John’s knowing glance at his shirt. They settle on the couch when Angelica produces  _ The Notebook _ . Alexander’s groans are overshadowed by Lafayette and Eliza’s cheers. “Can we please watch something else?” He groans, frowning when Eliza begins to chuckle. “It's okay, Alex, we know you're allergic to feelings.” Angelica teases from where her and Lafayette are platonically cuddling. “Ah, but  _ mon ami  _ is not allergic to love declarations when they are directed at him,  _ non _ ?” He chuckles, only to receive confused looks from the rest of their friends- Alexander included. “Who's declaring their love for our little lion?” John asks, cuddling even closer into Alexander’s arm. “Just a certain Virginian we all know and love.” Alexander chokes on his breath, glaring at the Frenchman. 

“Can I speak to you in the kitchen, Laf?” 

“Sure thing,  _ mon ami _ . If you'll start the movie,  _ ma dame _ .” Lafayette hops up, briskly following Alexander towards the kitchen. “What the hell was that?” He demands, glaring at his friend. “What do you mean? Is Thomas’s feelings a secret, do you not return them? I had only assumed you did because of the kiss but I suppose you might have just been surprised. I was surprised when Madison first told me but to but then I started paying attention to how Jefferson looked at you and then it was no surprise. I suppose-” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

Lafayette looks at him for a moment, his lips pursed, eyes lidded. Alexander recognizes it as his  _ are you stupid  _ expression. It only lasts for a moment though until it shifts to horror and then guilt. “Fils de pute.” Lafayette curses, “He didn't tell you.” 

“Of course he didn't tell me! This kiss was to get some douchebag at the bar to leave him alone, not because he confessed anything to me! Are you actually standing here and telling me that  _ Jefferson  _ is in love with me?” 

Lafayette is quiet for a moment, and then his frown turns into an uncomfortable smile. “I'm sure he didn't want you to find out like this, but at least you know.” 

“This is crazy,” Alexander spits, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, “He doesn't like me; he said the kiss didn't mean anything.” 

“At the bar, you were watching me talk to Madison and Thomas. You must have saw how embarrassed he got?” 

Now that Lafayette mentions it, Alexander can remember the way Jefferson looked like he wanted the world to swallow him whole. “Yeah I remember.”

“ _ Mon ami,  _ that's when Madison told me.” 

“But it doesn't make any sense!” Alexander groans, “He said the kiss didn't mean anything!” 

Lafayette rests his hands on Alexander’s shoulders. “What exactly did he say?”

Alexander thinks back to Monday’s cabinet meeting, thinks about how he interrupted Jefferson before he could speak, how  _ he  _ lied and said it didn't mean anything. “Oh my God, he didn't. It was me, I said it didn't mean anything because I was afraid of what he would say.” 

Lafayette’s lips twitched up at the sides. “What are you waiting for then?” Alexander walks briskly out of the room, stopping in the living room to smile at his friends. “Where are you going?” He bears Eliza call after him. He doesn't even bother to stop walking, just turns his head and calls back, unable to hide the air in his voice, “I have a Virginian to meet!”

He trusts Lafayette. He  _ does _ . But the man’s first language is French, not English. And there's been quite a few times when he's mistakenly heard something, or mistakenly said something. Alexander is confident, but if there was somehow a mistake in the language transfer, well Jefferson would never let him live it down. Which is how he finds himself standing in the hallway, about to knock on a door. James Madison’s door to be exact. 

Alexander raises his hand to knock, then drops it back down to his side. Maybe he should just go. Is it really work the embarrassment if he's wrong? He lets his mind drift back to Jefferson and that day in the elevator. His tight purple suit, that while ridiculous, looks extremely good on him. The way he crossed his black wingtips after he stepped inside. The way his full lips stretched over his bleached teeth, not maliciously for once but pleasantly. He thinks about the soft ringlets that he threaded his fingers in, the dark eyes that stared into his, the hitch of Jefferson’s breath, the gentle push and pull of their lips together. Then he thinks of the way he's seen Jefferson laugh when he's with Madison. The way he tips his head back as a melody pours from his mouth. He thinks about the way “Alexander” sounds midst his sweet southern accent. He raises his hand, knocking sharply three times. If he has even the slightest chance with Jefferson, then he's taking it. 

The door creaks open, and Madison steps forward, a silk robe wrapped tight around his frail body. “Hamilton,” He croaks, coughing into a purple handkerchief. A  _ purple _ handkerchief. The thought that it might belong to Jefferson sends streaks of white hot jealousy through his stomach. He knows they’re just friends, but it doesn't stop his brain from  _ feeling _ . “Mr. Madison, I'm sorry to bother you but I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time.” Alexander begins, laying it on thick. Madison rolls his eyes, stepping backward and gesturing for Alexander to follow him inside. “I'm not signing your bill, so if that's why you're here you should just go.” 

Damn it, he should have brought his bill. “I'm actually here to talk about Jefferson.” Alexander corrects, dropping down onto the loveseat across from Madison. “If you think I can convince Thomas to sign your bill, I'm afraid you're mistaken.” Madison says, voice cool and uninterested. “I'm not here to talk politics.” He interjects, watching Madison’s eyes crinkle in confusion. 

“Then what are you here to discuss?” 

“A certain French man told me that Jefferson might be harbouring some feelings?” He hates the word feelings, but there's not a better way to say it. He hears Madison cough, muttering something that sounds like  _ fucking French men _ , before he turns back to Alexander. “It's not my place to discuss Thomas’s feelings with you,” Madison starts, “ _ but _ if you were to… ask him out, I'm confident he wouldn't decline.” His words make Alexander smile and he stands up and claps Madison on the shoulder. “Thank you, Jemmy James. I hope you get better.” He smiles, jogging out of the apartment before he can hear the Virginian’s response. 

He wants to go to Jefferson’s place, wants to swoop in like some sort of cowboy from a romance novel and profess is undying love, but it's Jefferson and he needs to play this by ear. Alexander hails a cab home and maneuvers between the asleep bodies of his friends. He collapses in bed, still fully dressed, and falls asleep almost immediately. 

He rolls awake the next morning and takes his time as he dresses. He wears his nice dress pants and the expensive button up he had  _ borrowed _ from John something along the lines of three years ago. He adds a little product to his hair, but leaves it down. He’s out the door before six and makes a quick stop at his favourite coffee shop. 

He hails a cab for the rest of the way. The sun has long since risen above the horizon, the sky taking on a red and orange glow. He sits quietly in the cab, his right leg bouncing up and down to try and contain his nerves.  _ It's not enough _ . It's especially not enough when the driver pulls up outside of their building, and Alexander forks over the remainder of his cash. He really hopes Jefferson doesn't send him away. He signs in and takes the stairs two at a time until he’s on their floor. He stops outside Jefferson’s office and raises his hand to knock. His top teeth find their way to his bottom lip, biting on it while he steels himself. If he gets turned away, then he'll go to John’s and cuddle while eating Ben & Jerry’s and complaining about how much his life sucks, but if things go to plan then hopefully he'll end up with his hands back in those ringlets. 

“Hamilton,” Jefferson says, opening the door, “I’m not signing your bill.” And is that all people think he talks about? Jefferson goes to close the door, so Alexander sticks his foot out so his foot keeps it from shutting all the way. Jefferson opens it again, glaring at Alexander. He's dressed down in a pair of grey joggers and a light purple sweatshirt, his dark eyes covered in a pair of black framed glasses. Alexander’s startled because Thomas never comes to work in anything except the finest clothes he owns, plus he looks  _ really  _ good in glasses. “Can I help you?” He drawls, voice borderline annoyed. 

He coughs, obviously stalling while he gets his bearings, and then he takes a deep breath. 

“I lied to you on Monday; I told you that the kiss didn't mean anything and that was a lie. I didn't know what it meant at the time, but I swear I didn't stop thinking about it the entire weekend. I lied because I was worried that you would say it meant nothing, and I jumped to beat you to it because it did mean something. And I wouldn’t be here unless I knew it meant something to you too, and I know you probably didn't want me to know, or at least for me to find out like this but I'm sorry I guess? Actually I'm not sorry, I'm glad I know. You're probably wondering how I know actually. So Eliza, Lafayette, John, Angelica, and I had sat down last to watch The Notebook- totally a sap story by the way- and then when I said that Angelica asked said that I was allergic to feelings and then Lafayette said something about love declarations and I had no idea what he was talking about so I pulled him to the kitchen and he told me that the kiss meant something to you. And then he realized that you didn't tell me and then he was kinda freaking out but don't be mad at him. Anyways I wanted to make sure that he knew what he was talking about- language barrier and all that. So I stopped by Madison’s house and talked to him. He refused to answer me straight up but said a vague ass statement about how “ _ if I were to ask you out, you wouldn't decline. _ ” Of course he said it all  _ Madison  _ like deep and epically wise. Like when his voice becomes like an old Yoda. You’re his closest friend so I’m sure you know what I mean, anyways all that summed up to is this.” Alexander rants, talking fast and with his hands. “Thomas Jefferson, will you go out with me?” He finishes, an inhales deeply while he waits for Jefferson to start talking. The Virginian is looking at him like he's insane, which means that his information is probably wrong and he's just waiting for Jefferson to bark out a laugh and send him packing. 

“Please say something.” He breaths. 

“Sorry, just making sure you were done.”

“I'm done.” 

“Thank God.” 

Jefferson’s lips are on his in a split second, he had almost forgotten how good Jefferson - Thomas - was with his mouth. It's spine tingling good, and Alexander can feel it in his toes. His hands rest firmly against Alexander’s hips, steadying him. Not only his physical body, but his mental thoughts as well. It's tantalizingly slow, only the soft breath between them as they kiss. Like all things Alexander does, he wants to rush. He wants more  _ now _ , wants to take control, be in control. But as Alexander has always been one to act, Thomas has been the one to plan. He's the one that doesn't take action until there's a set plan, a set of guidelines, whereas Alexander charges in headfirst. 

Thomas is slow in his kiss, favouring each slide of their lips as if it might be his last, because it could be. He could die this very second, he'd go happily though. His hands rest softly on Alexander’s hips, his thumbs ghosting back and forth, just enough to provide a grounding comfort. He breathed in the other boy, their mixed scent. Thomas like coconut and expensive chamomile tea, where Alexander smells like parchment and coffee. It's an intoxicating smell, surrounding them, enfolding them in its wake. If anything, it slows Thomas’s movements even more. Giving him time to focus on Alexander’s lips against his own, the way his arms wrap around Thomas’s neck, the drag of his mouth. Alexander doesn't even acknowledge the little sounds he makes as Thomas backs him into his office and pushes him up against his desk. It feels cliche like this, making out like teenagers, but it’s  _ oh so good _ . 

Alexander threads his fingers through Thomas’s as the Virginian trails his lips over Alex’s jaw. It's so good that he stretches out, relinquishing in the push and pull. They break apart after a moment and Alexander tucks his head in the crook of Thomas’s neck. He smells like coconut and it's so relaxing. Thomas keeps whispering these soft words in his ear that, when combined with the scent of coconut and the comfortable weight cuddled up against to him make his eyes droop. “Do you want to discuss my debt plan now?” He asks, feeling more than hearing the north of breathless laughter that slips from Thomas’s mouth. “Oh my God, Alexander are you serious?”

“I resent that; I’m always serious.”

Thomas trails his lips down Alexander’s neck, making soft little breathy sounds that makes Alexander tip his head back. Alexander pulls him back up and connects their lips. He pulls Thomas’s body even closer to his own, intertwining their other hands by his side. He lazily mouths against Thomas’s killer jawline and then locks their lips together again. It’s slow and methodical, the way they kiss, and it makes Alexander’s toes curl but leaves him feeling so satisfied. 

“Mon Dieu!” Lafayette’s voice interrupts them. Thomas’s head shoots up and he sends a glare at the two men in the doorway. James coughs awkwardly and looks away but Lafayette claps his hands together excitedly, “James, mon ami, look at that. I can feel the love in the air. Aw, look how cute they are together.”

Thomas lets out a near growl and Lafayette throws his hands up like he’s surrendering. “Sorry, sorry. We were just leaving.” Lafayette murmurs, leading Madison from the room. 

Thomas turns back to him with a soft smile. 

“Thomas.” Alexander breathes, watching the way Thomas runs his eyes all over Alexander’s face.

“Yes, Alexander?”

He leans forwards to kiss the man and Thomas sighs contently as their lips meet. After a moment of savouring the kiss, Alexander pulls a fraction of an inch away. 

He smiles and whispers across Thomas’s lips, “Will you sign my bill?”

Alexander delights in Thomas’s little snort.

“Good God, Alex.” the man teases and pushes forward to connect their lips once more. 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr. I need more internet friends.  
> [willieverbesatisfied](https://willieverbesatisfied.tumblr.com/)


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